Disco

The word Disco conjures up images of Bee Gees, John Travolta, white suits and medallions. But in 1980’s Ireland it really meant Night Club. Well, Night Club in a 1980’s Ireland kind of way. Recently I’ve been doing a lot of driving and with various old CDs for company, I came across a CD which had several old “disco” favourites. These included “Real Gone Kid”, “The Final Countdown”, “Pump Up the Volume” and classics such as “Black Betty” and “Rock the Boat”. (Note to Self : Did I really like this music?) While listening to the tunes, I was transported back through the mists of time to another era and another life.
Life in Cahir (South Tipperary) for teenagers revolved around Friday nights. The one (and only) disco was Cahir House Hotel. This Georgian building, of faded grandeur at that time, was the site. Being an over-18s disco with alcohol for sale, proved problematic for us 15, 16 and 17 year olds. Firstly, there was begging parents to let us go. This hurdle was then replaced by getting passed the bouncers, Davy and “BottleNeck”. In the days before mandatory ID, all tricks were employed to “fool” them that you were indeed over 18, even though in both cases, their sons were in your class. They knew exactly what age you were. These obstacles aside of course was the trauma of trying to find out who was going to be there. In the pre-Twitter, Facebook, Bebo age with no mobile phones, the School Telegraph was the mode of information. This in its basic form was finding out from the respective brothers of potential future ex-girlfriends whether they may be in attendance. A flurry of meetings (usually by bicycle) between houses of best friends usually gave you an indication as to the presence or absence of said ladies. The telephone was strictly off limits both from a cost and privacy point of view.
With the detective work done, the preparations began. 1980’s Ireland was (to my mind) dominated by US television. Branding was everything. So, out came the Levi 501 jeans, the Fresh Air shirt (remember them)? Or the cooler Ben Sherman shirt (for those who had English relatives and sent them back). “Chaps” Hair gel, “Brut” aftershave and Tahiti shower gel were the order of the day. Ironing shirt (and jeans…God help us) was paramount. Runners of course were not allowed, so getting shoes clean…but not too clean was also essential.
The 16/17 year old me would meet up with “the lads” usually in (the now closed) Earl of Glengal pub. Known simply as “The Earl”, it was a restaurant with small lounge. A favoured spot, as you could keep an eye on the Square from there and see people (ie girls) being dropped off by parents for the disco.
Nursing a glass of Guinness (times were tough) for what seemed an eternity, we finally made our way over to Cahir House. Cloakroom ticket safely deposited in the Zippo lighter pocket of the 501s, we shuffled to the bar. Another glass of Guinness (times were indeed very tough) and the waiting began. We always arrived early to avoid being turned away if the crowd was too big.
Strategy was essential. One of the lads was always chosen to do a head count on arrivals. Then standing like flamingos against the wall in the dark, the music started. Cahir House still had that olde worlde charm complete with vintage 1970’s glitter ball. The Eddie Cotter Roadshow disco, complete with flashing lights (multicoloured too!!) started pumping out the music. “Pump Up the Jam”.
Various tours/circuits of the dance floor yielded yet more intel as to who was present. Generally one of the gang had a sister who would convey messages. (No mobile texting back then). The subtle language of frowning, laughing and nonchalance was studied carefully. The Slow Set was of course the crowning glory of this ritual, where the slower songs started and various girls were asked to dance.
The smarter amongst us would feed Eddie pints to get the tip off as to when exactly this would happen. This was vital, as usually when the slow set started, a mass exodus happened with all the girls gathering together in a swarm, making the task of asking one of them to dance harder. You felt that they were a jury which would sway the mind of the girl involved.
If you think the deck was stacked against you, then you would be correct. Coupled with this was the ear deafening music. Conversation was impossible. Any vaguely witty repartee was completely lost in “Unbelievable” by EMF, as the intended girl was whisked from you by her over-eager friend wishing to kick her heels up to the music.
If your prospects looked bleak, there was always the “supper”. This consisted of what Cahir House hilariously called a Chicken Supper. (Think paper plates, chicken and mushy peas) This was dispensed (rather than served) through a hatch. The reason the food was available was to facilitate the extension on the alcohol licence (up to 1am).
So on enquiring if so-and-so had any luck at the disco, “Chicken Supper”….meant no joy.
Those lucky enough to have managed the various trials/tribulations above found themselves at night’s end heading for the Roma Café, proprietor Joe Barbato ably assisted by Kamel. Kamel (who’s real name was Birham Ahmed Kamel – I was perhaps one of only 3 people to ever ask him that) was Turkish. He fervently believed that “Salt-and-Vinegar” was all one word. A one man Cholesterol Survey in action. Joey B had perhaps the best onion rings known to mankind, but of course if you had female company that was a complete no-no, patiently waiting for the girl’s parents to arrive in their car. A stolen glance, kiss perhaps? And then the long walk home….ears still ringing from the 1000db music. Tomorrow, you’ll curse the cigarette burn in your shirt, the porter splashes on your jacket but you will treasure whatever success you may have had….until the next Friday night.

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Radio

The first sound in our house growing up was the signal pip for the news on the radio. It hearlded the beginning of each day. My father, a radio fan had (and still has) RTE Radio 1 on each morning. Our breakfast table was populated with the voice of David Hanly, Cathal McCoille and others, gruffly interviewing some Minister about the latest stories. As I grew up, my brother and I, in our shared room fought over the dial. Radio Luxembourg was a fad. The “Luxy Scarf” being a dreamed of item. The scratchy whiney whistling signal improved the later into the night it got. Rolling the silver dial of that old Sanyo tape cassette/radio combo gave a host of babbling foreign languages. Weather reports in French, Spanish and Dutch were marvelled at by my 6 year old ears. With the advent of Radio 2 and my advancing years, the trio of Fanning, Ryan and Cagney became “must listen to” Radio. Gerry Ryan’s “Lights Out” was essential. Conversations in Secondary School revolved around what Gerry was playing. When a new Dublin band stormed the charts and went on to conquer the world, loyal listeners of Radio 2 nodded their heads sagely and nonchalantly as we had heard of “U2” long before the wider world.

My brother was (and still is) a BBC Radio 4 fan. He hooked me on their comedy like “Week Ending” (think Spitting Image on the radio). Other programmes like “From Our Own Correspondent” and particularly “Letter from America” gave my teenage years a wider understanding of the greater world – and a life-long love of American politics.
College years were filled with Cork’s 96FM, Radio 4, World Service and the rebranded 2FM. Everready batteries were traded amongst students (like smokes in a prison movie) to keep the Walkman going. So many student nights were ended with the Sea Area Forecast from Radio 4 to the strains of “Sailing By”. An eccentricity I’ll admit, but there you go.
In College I got the opportunity to (briefly) take part in Campus FM. It was a dream come true. I got a first hand look at radio production. Regrettably, my course work meant I couldn’t pursue this further. One of my few deep regrets in College.

Moving into the workforce, and moving to the UK, Classic FM was a stable diet. Funnily enough, I couldn’t get used to listening to Radio 4 in FM. Having listened to the longwave signal for all those years, the crystal clear FM signal lost some of the mystique of the whistly longwave magic.

Over the years I’ve picked a few broadcasters whom I admire and respect. No matter what the format, station or programme I will listen. This isn’t some slavish following, but rather a curiosity to see what the broadcaster will do! Like all good services and products, good radio appears “easy”. Bad radio regrettably is actually easy. Flicking the dial to some stations makes you realise what quality we have in our National stations.

To my layman’s mind, the secret of radio can be boiled down to a couple of factors. Paramount is production values. If you have a good team of researchers who tease out items, fact check and prepare, then the presenter cannot but produce the goods from behind the mike. Subject matter and contributor come a close second.

Radio can be diverting, but also arresting. There are some stand out moments that I recall. An interview with Timothy Knatchbull on 2FM with Ryan Tubridy remains one of those moments. Mr Knatchbull had survived a boat explosion that caused the death of his grandparents, twin brother and another. My wife (also a radio fan) sat transfixed listening to his compelling retelling of that fateful day and the aftermath. A good presenter (in my very humble opinion) knows when to ask the questions but also (more importantly) when to leave the contributor answer. This ranks as a master class in that.

Recent coverage of Queen Elizabeth II visit to Ireland and President Obama’s visit also underlined just how well served we are in Ireland with our National stations. Lyric FM also produces some of the best documentaries. A little known documentary by Paul Herriot about Aushwitz also ranks amongst some of the very best radio I’ve heard in years (Notes from the Fire) http://www.rte.ie/lyricfm/presshighlights/Presshighlightswk5.pdf

Radio also has some duds. It has changed hugely since I first started listening. In a nation of talkers, “Talk Radio” seems overly pervasive. The quality varies wildly.

I admit to dreaming of having my own show. It was a long-held ambition, until I appeared on National Radio, in studio with one of the ultimate heavyweight broadcasters, Marian Finnucane. The background rested on my closing my business. I wrote an article for a national newspaper and was invited on to the show to discuss it. In the midst of huge personal turmoil, my chance to see and participate in a long-held goal collided. Apprehension and self-doubt clouded my thoughts. On the one hand I was trying to savour the experience of being at the beating heart of this wonderful medium, on the other hand I felt compelled to tell my story in way I felt was fitting.

I should explain that I normally listen to Marian on Saturday mornings. Spatula in hand, I flip sausages, rashers and eggs, standing in my kitchen, catering for the girls. I usually “talk” at Marian as I cook….”C’mon Marian…give ‘em hell” or some such nonsense. To suddenly find myself in a tiny studio, mike in my face, and two curious eyes peering into mine with the red light ON…is a very very different story. As it transpired my time was limited and the experience (while rich) was somewhat lacking. I’m not sure I could have done more, but I certainly valued the insight.

So, my day starts with “Morning Ireland” and Hector (for balance), and finishes with Alf McCarthy on Late Date. Radio allows you to savour discussion. It can enrage and occasionally it’ll force me to switch off, but mostly : listen.

Meeting Your Heroes

It all started simply enough. I had been a HUGE “MacGyver” fan on TV. For those young enough not to know that show, it featured a science-based hero who defeated his enemies through science and knowledge rather than brawn and guns. It was a great show with lead actor: Richard Dean Anderson (known to his fellow actors and crew as RDA apparently). In any case, it was a staple of 1980’s television, particularly in two-channel land 1980’s Ireland.
Fast forward 20 odd years. Gone is the wide-eyed 13-year-old country boy in Ireland. In his place was a married father of two newborn twin girls. Parenthood is scary. Parenthood with one child provides more challenges than are imaginable. Parenthood with twins presents an even bigger challenge. All good! But challenging!!
Realising that both parents suffering from sleep deprivation was a bad strategy, my wife and I decided to take it in turns to “do nights” with the twins. And so I stumbled across “Stargate SG1” on Sky 1 at 1am. Initially I must confess, I thought it was another popcorn “run and gun” Sci Fi hokum series. What caught my attention was RDA. This was MacGyver? Why is he in it?
Watching the show at 2am, 3am and other incongruous hours lead to a deeper appreciation for a very clever show. The writing, acting and VFX were excellent. So when it came to the agreed lottery of who would “do nights” I volunteered! I began to follow the show religiously, almost to the fervour of my teenage years for “MacGyver”. The show follows a team of four adventurers who travel from Earth to other worlds through a portal called a Star Gate which works on Worm Hole Physics. (I know that I have now lost most of the non- Sci Fi fans, but bear with me). In any case, the inter-relationships of the team and the allies and enemies they encountered made for captivating television. Trust me. Go check it out.
As the girls got older and the nights became less sleep deprived, I watched the show in regular hours.
In 2008, on a simple ‘net search, I stumbled across a public appearance by RDA and a fellow cast member, Amanda Tapping both appearing in aid of charity. It was to occur in England. Easy flight to Bristol. I ran a “Permission Slip” by Her Royal Highness. With a green light, I applied for a ticket. I knew no-one else attending. A small part of me said “You’re mad!” but I persisted. I had no clue what the format or expectation would be. All I knew was that there would be a “Q and A” session with the two stars and a “photo-op”. Having never attended a function like it before, my expectations were low. I reckoned it would be a good pub story no matter what.
On arriving in Bristol, I checked into the Convention Hotel. Several other fans were there. At the (inevitable) drink at the bar, I met some other fans. One of them, called Stephen, was great gas. We chatted with others over favourite episodes, plot lines and outstanding moments. Much like football fans talk about classic matches and favourite players and goals.
The next morning, we were all bussed to Wells. A tiny town with the designation of a city (because of its beautiful Cathedral – where Hot Fuzz had just been filmed). Having registered and taken my seat with the others, the show began. In walked Amanda Tapping, followed by RDA! Having met a handful of famous people in the past, I was aware of the “Oh he’s taller than I imagined/shorter/thinner etc” The frisson of excitement amongst the “SG1” faithful was palpable. There were many “MacGyver” fans present too.
A “Q and A” session proceeded with regular questions: “Favourite episode/moments/typical day on set/best prank/worst dialogue/character development” etc. Throughout the session, I quickly realised how nervous RDA was. It turns out that he rarely does this appearances…and this was his first one with regard to SG1. Following the “Q and A” was a coffee meeting. This consisted of the fans grouped at separate tables. 10 fans per table. Both Amanda and Richard (all on first name terms now don’t you know!) visited each table for about 10 minutes, giving each fan some “face time”.
The level of excitement for fans increased as the stars made their way from table to table. Amanda was first to arrive and specifically mentioned how “nervous Rick is”. She pointed at me saying “You there…Paul is it? (name tag on)…Say something fun to make Rick feel at ease!” Thinking quickly, as RDA sat down, I said “Last time I saw you, you were this big! (Approximating 6cm between thumb and index finger)” Richard Dean Anderson is approximately 6’4’’! RDA laughed. It was a real icebreaker. He geared most of his conversation towards me. We talked about his house in Malibu, his time on “MacGyver”, his daughter Wiley and before you knew it, the 10 minutes were up.
Following the coffee gig, there was the photo-op. Considering there were approximately 120 people at this morning session, we were the last group to be called. Imagine standing beside 110 different people, arms around waist and smile beaming? (I couldn’t do it!) When I arrived, Amanda (ever the professional) reminded Rick (as she had done with every person that morning) some small anecdote from the coffee meeting earlier. “Hey Rick, this is the guy who thought you were “this” tall?!” RDA, immediately laughed. Commenting on my appearance (I wore a shirt, tie, jacket) he said : “Oh yeah! Sure! Shirt’n’Tie” Hence the moniker I use.
That evening there was a charity auction of props/scripts and other paraphernalia from the show auctioned for charity. At it, both Amanda and RDA walked through the crowd, mike in hand, talking with the audience. RDA spent a lot of time coming over to say I was the “Best Dressed” at it. His generosity with the fans was outstanding. Giving plenty of time to all who had attended. The event raised over £20,000 stg. A staggering sum. He turned out to be exactly who I thought he would be. I have had the privilege of meeting other friends of RDA, and they all echo this view. Meeting your heroes can be a let down. I’ve met other heroes who have fallen short of the mark (with a bang) But for one of my all time heroes, RDA is No.1.

http://twitpic.com/d14d2

The Trouble With Twitter

Twitter. The very name suggests frivolity. For some, twitter is just that. Inane descriptions of life..from the coffee to the colour of their shoes. For others it’s seen as an instrument of change e.g. recent uprisings and even political discourse here in Ireland (step forward Dan Boyle et al). How does it work? Or does it work at all?

I joined Twitter in April 2009. I was pestered by my brother who kept saying it’d be perfect for me (not entirely sure whether that was a compliment or not). He himself tweets rarely now (interestingly). In any case, I dived in. It provides for short text-like messages based on 140 characters (spaces included).
Mainly I was drawn to communication with a lot of my North American friends. I found communicating by email to be tiresome and not very interactive. I found posting on a forum to be ok, but conversation was hard to keep track of, as others talked of different topics….so Twitter it was. Initially I was delighted with it. Instant, snappy, snazzy breakneck chatter with cool links, up to the minute news, comments by “opinion makers” and average Joes (like me). It is the epitome of “Less is More” and lends itself to the “time-poor”who don’t want to read blogs.

Over the coming months, I read a lot. I commented frequently and followed dozens of household names and some not so famous.

In the main those first few months were a huge learning curve. When asked to describe Twitter, Mark Little (http://twitter.com/marklittlenews) describes it as “a conversation not a club”. I agree with him. However, sometimes it’s like having a conversation IN a nightclub – it’s hard to be heard, your message is short, occasionally inane and no REAL discourse can happen because of the “noise”. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not out to save the world or put forth my treatise on the fall of the Roman Empire, but Twitter is limiting. This, as it turns out, is also its saving grace. With just 140 characters, thought, effort and interest are the hallmark of the good tweet. I find that the vast majority of Twitter users are bright, educated, considerate and tend to value snappy wordplay. Twitter however is not for everyone. If you can’t get the message across in this very very short medium it can be frustrating. Ultimately these users leave and never return.

As my Twitter “anniversary” approached in 2010, I reviewed what I had learned from Twitter. It had been a good year. I followed (and was being followed by) a lot of interesting people. I had been linked to fascinating articles I would never have found on my own. I had struck up some good “on line” friendships and made a friend or two (I hope!) In fact, a story that could only happen in Ireland typifies my own Twitter experience.

One day last year, while tweeting about the ever-crumbling government (at that time) I made reference to my own profession and moaned about the media’s fascination with cost rather than value. I got a smart arsed reply from a follower. When I say smart-arsed, it could have been also categorised as “flippant”. There in lies the peril with Twitter. Having chatted about the Sate of the Nation it transpired that this particular follower had actually been a roommate of my neighbour at home! In fact, we found we knew a lot of people in common. This has since lead to pints in Tipperary. Just goes to show you!

We Irish are outstanding tweeters. For a small nation, we can (on occasion) dominate Twitter. A couple of examples: a TD (George Lee) resigned (spectacularly) some months after election. A former Economics Commentator with the national broadcaster, a bright future in any proposed alternate government seemed assured. However, this was not to be. When he resigned, a hash tag #glee dominated Twitter that afternoon – trending worldwide (and also simultaneously puzzling Glee fans). When Ireland chose its Eurovision hopefuls, it dominated Twitter. A similar thing happened during the last Budget and recent elections.

We Irish love to talk. Twitter seems to be the next best thing. This also demonstrates another facet to Twitter – communal television viewing. In the US “Strictly Come Dancing” and “Survivor” have become Twit-tv or “Twitv” staples. Here in Ireland, The Late Late Show (#latelate) and Tonight With Vincent Browne (#vinb) have also become regular “appointment twitter”. In both cases the comment can be merciless. It brings out the best and worst in Twitter. While the “over and back” commentary can be entertaining and certainly valid points are made, there is a touch of the “Lord of the Flies” about some. Those that have the “conch” are re-tweeted. Insightful and deserved comment can be found in these streams, but also many many plain nasty comments too.

This level of nastiness can be found in regular interactions too. A minority opinion can sometimes be pilloried by the more acerbic tweeters. It is sometimes difficult to witness and endure. Last year, a follower passed a very disparaging remark, citing me to a third party. Now, I’m not into “School Yard” politics – I am (thankfully) older than 12. Given the choice of ignoring the comment or responding, I usually ignore them, as to respond can be the rock on which you perish. However with many common followers, the tweet would have been seen by a lot of people. I felt forced into contacting the follower. They accepted that they had overstepped the mark, apologised and we continued on – No harm, no foul.

On other occasions that this has happened, I have been left shrugging my shoulders, unfollowing and moving on.

To all that join Twitter I say : For breaking news, comment, gags, word games it is hard to beat, but do bring a hard hat.

COMING NEXT WEEK : “Meeting Your Heroes”

Pre-Blog Blog!

Well, I’m finally taking the plunge on this whole blog thing. Having watched others blogging for years, and getting a sense of what is involved, I’ve decided that this little postage stamp space of the Internet shall be mine!

To get the show on the road, I’ve decided to do a pre-blog blog. In this entry I want to put out a few faqs…which for the luddites (like me) means Frequently Answered Questions.

 

Who are you? Why are you starting a blog?

My name is Paul. I’m married with 4 girls. I live in Tipperary here in little old Ireland. I graduated from University College Cork in dental surgery in 1997. I’m starting a blog for a number of reasons. Over the years I’ve followed a very interesting blog by Joseph Mallozzi. He is a television writer and producer in Canada. He was a show runner for the tv series Stargate Atlantis and wrote for other Stargate shows. Joe is currently show-runner for the new tv series : Transporter : The Series.His blog, however, deals not just with television but with books, music, politics, food, sport and a host of other topics. I admire how he blogs everyday. And I mean everyday, hail rain or shine. It’s a great read and (television/sci fi aside) is interesting in its own right. Joe also runs a monthly online book club which suggests titles I would never have considered. His excellent blog is at : http://josephmallozzi.wordpress.com

Are you just emulating Joe?

No, but I am basing (a little) of the content on what he does over at his blog. I hope, later to also run an online book club, perhaps more general fiction than sci fi. That is certainly yet to be decided.

Why the moniker? Why not just call it after your name? Are you hiding behind a mask?  No! I am not hiding behind a mask, in fact you can tweet me over on twitter at http://www.twitter.com/ShirtnTie The story behind the name is a long one, which I will be addressing in a future blog! Stay tuned.

What can I expect from this Blog? Is it Political?

I am hoping the blog will help to hone some writing skills. Using a newspaper column style and limiting myself to 1,000 words per entry, I hope to whittle down a topic to a palatable size, rather than long reams of coherent “rambling”.

While the blog may touch on several political issues currently in Ireland, it is not intended to be solely political. That said, anyone living in this country right now who isn’t political is a rare species indeed.

Will you blog daily?

No. I intended to blog on a weekly basis. Publishing on a Friday, limiting the blog to 1,000 words.

What topics will you discuss?

Anything (within reason)

I read many blogs everyday. Why should I read yours? I don’t have that kind of time. Agreed! That’s why I’m limiting the blog to 1,000 words. The size of a newspaper article/column.

Are comments moderated?

Yes. I don’t forsee a huge amount of traffic here, but comments will be moderated. Also, like Joe, I intend to run a “mail bag” of sorts once a month for questions that may arise (again within reason, common sense and good tase!)

Haven’t I seen you some place before?                                                                   

Probably, I have that kind of face. No, seriously, I contribute (monthly) to a national newspaper’s health supplement on the topic of dentistry…BUT!!!….This blog here is in no way connected, aligned or bears any relation to that. It is a separate entity and views expressed here are my own- strictly my own. Let me be clear also that this is not a “dental helpline”, though of course, I will discuss some dental topics and will also help (wherever possible) with certain dental queries.

So when do you get started?

This Friday. First blog, limited to 1000 words will be titled : The Trouble with Twitter.

To Blog or Not to Blog?

After many years of surfing the ‘net, twittering and posting on various fora, I have been shy about starting a blog. Not that I don’t have something to say….I do! However, time is a factor and also, I’m not quite sure what kind of a blog I want to run. In any case, I’ve decided to set this up and perhaps fine tune it in the weeks and months to come.